


Warm Blood

by vinetini



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Linhardt, First Kiss, Getting together before epilogue, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 17:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinetini/pseuds/vinetini
Summary: Linhardt usually found himself feeling queasy upon seeing too much blood on a person, but this time he barely even noticed; all he could focus on was the agonized twist of Byleth's sweaty face and the hole puncturing his stomach.





	Warm Blood

"**PROFESSOR**!"

More than one voice had screamed out in horror as Byleth stumbled back in pain, the claw of a large Demonic Beast slicing past his sword and into his chest. He cried out, red staining his tunic as he fell back onto his knees; he'd attempted a risky strike in order to protect Ingrid who had been forced to fly away from the main group due to a rider on horseback. The nearby students immediately ran to his position and attempted to set up a defensive formation as best they could around their wounded mentor; Sylvain and Felix pressed on the attack against the beast, while Ingrid wheeled around and jabbed at the monster with her javelin, pestering the beast to turn in circles in a desperate attempt to give the fallen man time.

And Linhardt? Linhardt was currently fighting the feeling of his heart beating in his throat as he attempted to keep Byleth's organs inside his stomach. He had raced over, boots clacking on the tiles of the old fort and fell besides Byleth's body, panic threatening to overwhelm him. He was the only mage here; Annette Dimitri and Mercedes had pressed forward towards the enemy general, while Dedue and Ashe cleaned up the reinforcements from behind. All had been going smoothly until Ingrid had been forced to fly into the range of the monster while dodging arrows; Byleth had stepped forward to distract the beast from slamming the flier out of the air.

It had worked, but Linhardt didn't bear to think of the potential cost as his shaky hands pushed away Byleth's now crimson coat to better see the wound. Linhardt usually found himself feeling queasy upon seeing too much blood on a person, but this time he barely even noticed; all he could focus on was the agonized twist of Byleth's sweaty face and the hole puncturing his stomach. The bright dripping red was but a brief distraction from the grisly puncture and the awful, awful expression of Byleth below him clenching his teeth in pain.

"You're going to be just fine, breathe deeply while I patch this up" he assured the other, inwardly cursing the strained sound of his voice.

Taking a deep breath himself, he held out a hand and poured as much magical energy into as possible. He tried his best to call the powers of his crest forward; it was not a guarantee the crest would reveal itself, but he needed every last drop of magic in his body. He pushed forward, his whole being yearning to fix the grisly sight in front of him and take Byleth's pain away. He had endured five years after the monastery had fallen to see Byleth once again, and he wasn't going to lose him here in this godforsaken fort without using at least every bit of magic he could conjure up. 

The wound was slowly closing, but his stomach dropped - it hadn't quite been enough. The skin had not wholly closed over the puncture and the blood while slowing to a trickle was still flowing out of Byleth's body. Byleth made a soft groan of pain and the sound was like a punch to his own gut. He hadn't done enough. He couldn't save him by his own efforts.

"Someone, get Mercedes NOW!" he ordered desperately, raising his eyes to his fellow Lions in front of him.

Sylvain nodded back, sending a worried look towards Byleth bleeding on the tiles before urging his horse past the beast, nimbly dodging around Felix and Ingrid's attacks to distract the monster. The sound of rapid hooves on the tiles calmed Linhardt's nerves somewhat, though the panic he was attempting to hold back was threatening to bubble to the surface upon looking at Byleth's pale face. The other man had always been quite pale, but his white and bloodless disposition was scary to behold. He tried to shake away the thoughts of doubt, resolutely pouring more magic into the wound and hoping that with the arrival of Mercedes, two healers would be able to stop the flow of blood completely. 

"L-Lin..."

Linhardt started at the weak rasp below him; Byleth looked at him, eyes glazed in pain as he coughed weakly into his shoulder.

"I'll thank you not to strain yourself further by talking, hold on just a little longer" Linhardt said gently, trying to keep his tone even.

He couldn't stand the look in Byleth's eyes; he reached out the hand he wasn't using for magic and took Byleth's hand in his own, running an assuring thumb over the back of the other's palm. It was a slightly awkward position but Byleth seemed to appreciate it; his eyes became slightly less glazed as he focused on the sight of Linhardt's hand in his weak bloody grasp. It wasn't just for Byleth's benefit; the fragile but warm feeling of the other's hand reminded Linhardt he hadn't lost him just yet. Gritting his teeth, he pushed more magic out; he was starting to feel lightheaded from the amount he was using and there was a dizzy feeling in the back of his neck, but it was nothing compared to the pain Byleth was going through below him. An under-achiever he may have been in class, but this was five years later and there was the life of a beloved person on the line.

Beloved.

Gods, Linhardt loved him. He'd known it for years, but hadn't dared to dream about it with his ex-Professor presumed dead for all this time, and they'd only just reunited months ago-

Tears stung his eyes; he blinked them away with annoyance. He had told Byleth before that he found crying a waste of time and he felt the same now; crying would be both a waste of energy and a sign of giving up. 

"I'm here!"

Relief coursed through his body as he heard Mercedes' voice approaching; he looked up as she quickly dismounted off the back of Sylvain's horse, rushing towards the two. Sylvain turned and with a flash of red hair rejoined the fight against the beast, but Linhardt barely had a thought to spare for the creature at the moment. Mercedes ran her eyes quickly over Byleth's wound and sweaty face, lips tightening.

"You did well to stabilize him. I'm surprised you managed to keep it this closed" she mused, reaching her own hand out forward to send gentle but strong healing light towards Byleth's stomach.

"I... might have been pushing it a bit" Linhardt admitted, realizing he wasn't just lightheaded with the feeling of relief.

"Take a brief rest, I can manage him from here. You did well" Mercedes reassured, sending him a brief but kind smile before turning her attention back to their professor on the tiles.

Linhardt slumped back, only just feeling the heavy strain on his body now that Byleth wasn't in imminent danger of bleeding out. There was black spots whenever he blinked and his eyesight was slightly fuzzy; a classic sign of using too much magic. He blinked and shook his head, trying to stabilize himself. He heard a loud, pained roar from afar; minutes later, the concerned faces of his fellow Lions were crowding around them.

"Is he all right?" Felix asked, straight to the point as usual with subtle worry in his eyes.

"I'm sure he'll survive, though we best take him back to the Monastery as soon as possible" Mercedes said, looking over at Sylvain's horse. He nodded, preparing his horse's back and saddle to be able to carry the Professor's weak body.

"This is all my fault..." Ingrid whispered, looking away in shame from Byleth's bloody form on the floor and Mercedes' stained hands.

The Blue Lions around her instantly assured her that accidents in battle happened and that she should not blame herself, Felix giving Ingrid an awkward but sincere pat on the back. Linhardt was hardly going to point fingers himself; he hadn't been able to fully close the wound and that fact was like a lead weight in his gut. He felt tired to the bone, stumbling when Mercedes offered him a hand up from the floor.

"You overdid it, didn't you Linhardt? I'll see if we have a rider who can spare a seat for you as well?" she inquired, peering worriedly at him. 

He nodded vaguely; walking sounded next to impossible with the way his body refused to co-operate. He watched Sylvain ride off toward the road out of the fort with Byleth positioned weakly against him, slowly fading from sight.

He felt sick, and the dried blood on his clothes was not solely responsible. 

* * *

Linhardt sighed, standing in the moonlight outside the door to the infirmary. He fidgeted with his hands, feeling uncertain; he'd planned to visit Byleth upon hearing he had mostly recovered from his injury earlier in the day. And yet every time Linhardt rose from his room in order to keep the other company, he had hesitated.

Years ago back in the academy, Byleth had made a promise that he would never let Linhardt die in battle while the other was there. Linhardt had not taken it too seriously at the time, amused by the absolute sincerity on the Professor's face. Yet every battle afterwards, whenever he had found himself in a tight spot Byleth would appear, whether to offer aid or defeat an enemy advancing on his position. He'd agreed to let Linhardt focus on healing magic so he didn't have to kill anyone unless in self-defense. He'd picked up an old book on crest research at the marketplace and given it to Linhardt after he had told the Professor about his favourite subject. He'd invited Linhardt out to tea several times, and remembered his favourite blend after the first. Somewhere along the way, Linhardt had realized his own feelings were getting into inappropriate territory; in the last few months before the monastery fell he had attempted to quash down the warm fuzzy and ridiculous emotions in his chest when he spent time with Byleth. And in the years where he thought the other lost forever, he had never felt such warm feelings for anyone else... just a dull ache at the thought of his brilliant, wonderful Professor lying dead in some forgotten rubble around Garreg Mach.

All he wanted was for Byleth to return; now that his wish was granted, he had no excuse to keep on being a coward. They were not Professor and student anymore. Linhardt was no longer a teenager but a tired, weary adult who wanted two things: for the war to end so he could take many naps, and to be with Byleth as he did. He flushed at the admission in his head.

He couldn't keep pretending. Today had been too much. Filled with resolve, he squared his shoulders and opened the door to the infirmary. 

Byleth looked up from his medical cot, hands tucked above his chest where thick white bandaging covered his stomach. He smiled softly upon seeing Linhardt in the doorway, causing a throb in the other's stomach.

"I was hoping you weren't too tired to drop by. Mercedes said you had overworked yourself trying to save me..."

"You know me, I'm always tired. But yes, I may have overdone it just a tad today" Linhardt faux-grumbled, making his way over to the chair next to Byleth's form.

"I hope you didn't make yourself sick. I know you hate blood" the other mentioned, concern in his green eyes as he leaned over towards Linhardt.

"You know something? I was so worried in the moment it barely registered" Linhardt admitted with an uneasy laugh, twisting his fingers together. 

"I can hardly remember it, but I know I have you to thank before Mercedes arrived. Thank you Linhardt.” 

"Well considering your promise to never let me die, I figured I should probably try and return the favor" Linhardt replied in a blasé manner, although his heart was beating increasingly inside his chest.

"Ha, I did say that didn't I?" Byleth mused, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You did. And I never forgot it... or you, Byleth."

Byleth looked up, startled. Linhardt internally winced; his tone was far more serious than he had wanted it come out and it was rare that he called Byleth by name. The silence stretched out between them; Byleth seemed to be expecting an explanation for his behaviour. He sighed, clenched his fists and looked Byleth straight in the eye.

"I told you once before that you were precious to me, and I meant it. With all my heart. Seeing you so injured scared me more than any amount of blood. If I lost you again... I couldn't even begin to imagine..." Linhardt admitted in a soft voice, failing to find the right words to properly express himself. Swallowing, he reached out a hand.

Byleth took it slowly, staring at their fingers intertwined together above the white infirmary sheets. He seemed to be at a loss for words.

Linhardt searched for courage inside himself and continued.

"I know we were at the monastery together long ago, but now... I am your comrade, and a man."

Linhardt swallowed, and pressed forward.

"A man who loves you, very much."

Byleth's eyes widened in surprise, his hand slackening in the other's grip. Linhardt flushed, looking away; he'd gone and done the one thing he'd been resolutely running away from for months. Now he could only wait for a likely rejection to come where Byleth broke his heart as gently as possible, and he would leave the infirmary to take a long, sad nap. 

"Linhardt. Look at me."

The other looked up, dreading a negative expression on the other's face. But Byleth was staring straight into his eyes, emerald gaze demanding the truth.

"You love me?"

Linhardt's lip trembled.

"Yes."

"You... were thinking of me for the last few years?"

"Without reprieve." 

Byleth leaned back. His strange green eyes were shining.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come back any sooner."

"I'm glad you came back at all... and after your little stunt of bravery today, I had to tell you the truth."

There was silence again. But it was not oppressive; a pondering expression had made itself onto Byleth's face.

"I will admit, I have enjoyed these last few months very dearly with you. But what do you want from me when this war is over?"

Linhardt exhaled.

"I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen to my Father, or my lands, or the Empress."

Byleth nodded, face impassive.

"Then... what do you want from me now?"

Linhardt looked up. Byleth was smiling, a slow sweet smile that made his whole face warm. Relief flooded through him, as sweet as honey.

"I want you to kiss me."

"Unfortunately due to my current stomach position, you're going to have to kiss me" Byleth pointed out, Linhardt noting with increasing delight at the playful tone the other used.

Unable to stop the ever-growing smile threatening to split his face, he leaned over, green strands of hair delicately falling against Byleth's shoulder. There was no more need for words.

Linhardt pressed his soft lips against Byleth's smile, and with a lightening of his heart thought _'finally.'_

**Author's Note:**

> First kiss after a dangerous battle is such a cheesey but good trope bro.... 
> 
> A different take on them getting together before the epilogue, though Linhardt and Byleth would still exchange rings at the Tower! I'm starting my first Golden Deer playthrough tomorrow so Claude fics are likely on the way! I may also do some Linhardt/Byleth smut if the mood takes me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


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